All That Matters
by Vampiratelvr
Summary: Bella lived in Arizona with her mom and dad until disaster struck her family. Looking for a new start, Bella finds a home with a new family. Bella expects only to be saved from a life on her own - but can her new family save her from themselves?
1. Alone

_Why? Why me? Why did Fate choose me to plague with death, with torture? Why did Fate choose me to tease with constant, unyielding hatred, so undeserving, so unneeded? _

_Why? The reason has no meaning, no true substance. _

_All that matters is the pain._

With heavy lids, I opened my eyes. I instantly shut them, the sun having entered through the cracked and dirtied window pane, greeting me with the burning brightness of Phoenix, Arizona.

I fell out of my makeshift bed, my clumsiness doing its darndest to rid the world of me forever. Still in my pajamas, grey plaid cotton pants and a sports bra from the corner store down the road, I tiptoed into my mother's room.

It was located directly next to mine, and was the only bedroom of the house. Mine was actually the living room, rearranged with a once-elegant, now-moth-eaten old couch in the corner, a small nightstand with a cheap, yard-sale type lamp, its shade crooked and dented, and a shelf tacked to the wall a little crookedly, filled from end to end with books.

Brontë. Shakespeare. Austen. Classics, all. Love stories, all. Famous, all.

So who was I, a mere girl living in one of the cheapest streets of Phoenix, living in complete squalor, taking care of her incapacitated mother, going to school – when possible – and eating five times a week, to wish for love?

I was Isabella Swan.

I had taken care of my mother for five months, ever since my father died of multiple lung diseases. Emphysema, lung cancer…and many I couldn't even begin to pronounce. With him died all hope of treatment; most of our money had been put toward his impossible, nonexistent recovery. Treatment was now out of the question.

Treatment for breast cancer. Treatment that Renée had been lacking for months…all those months since my father's death.

I sat on the edge of my mother's bed, rubbing circles into her weathered, shaking hand. The blue veins popped out of her nearly skeletal arm.

"Bella…" she whispered, motioning with a finger to come nearer. I complied. "My dearest Bella…you have to stop working all the time." Taken by surprise, I started.

"But how did yo-"

She cut me off. "Bella, I am not stupid. I am your mother; I know these things," she said, a twinkle in her eye. A twinkle that faded almost instantly. "You've been working full time at the corner store – that's how you got the discount on those ratty pajamas. You work part time at the library, you baby-sit many of the teacher's children. You think I don't know? I know, too, that you've been giving me most of your food – the food that _you _buy. Really, Bella," she sighed, lifting my chin up with her fragile fingers. "I don't expect this from you. I don't _want _this from you."

My carefully composed mask failed me. My face crumpled, and tears sprung forth from my eyes. "I'm…so…sorry, Mother," I cried helplessly into the folds of her thin robe. "I thought…I thought I could…care for you. Take care of you. Now that…that Daddy's gone…you need me, Mother…you do. You really do. You need….need treatment, Mom, and…and I thought…I thought..."

"Sweetie, I _know_ you need to live. I _know_ you need to just _grow up_."

Her harsh words stung. "But…but I…"

And then I was blubbering. _"Mommy, we can be okay, we can, we really can, I'll help you Mommy, I'll work longer and harder and get another job and I could ask for a pay raise at the corner store and Mommy, Mommy we can get through this Mom don't be mad at me, Mommy. I'll work hard and I'm sorry for lying to you Mom but we needed the money we really did we needed it because we're poor and we have no money and we won't and you need treatment, Mommy, don't leave me Mommy, don't die don't die don't die I need you Mommy! I need you…_need…you…" Renée's hand all the while stroked through my hair, attempting to calm me. An attempt which was quite unsuccessful. She tried yet another approach.

"Stop this!" my mother barked. Frightened, I bit back another sob and went silent.

Then I managed weakly, "I'm sorry?" It came out as a question. Tears still continued silently on their track down my flushed, sunken cheeks.

"No, honey. No, Bella. No, my Bella. Don't be sorry, my pet, my love." She wrapped her arms around my trembling form, pulling me to her with all her might. "Don't be sorry, my Bella. My daughter. I am grateful."

I looked up at her, uncomprehending. Hopeful.

She smiled sadly. "Yes, love, I am grateful. That I should be blessed with a daughter like you, to care for me, to sacrifice everything she has for me. It is a blessing." She sighed. "A blessing, yes…but also a curse."

I frowned, confused. Hurt surged into me. A curse…a setback…unneeded, unwanted….a _curse_.

Renée fixed me stolidly with her gaze, her cool brown eyes penetrating mine, digging painfully past my flesh and into my soul. "That you should be trying so hard to be an adult – and you're succeeding. It terrifies me, my little baby…a grown up. You _are _grown up. And you _shouldn't be. _A curse, yes…" She blinked, then turned to the window facing west, away from the sun, wrenching her gaze from mine. "I was young, Bella, you know that. I was too young when I married your Father…when I married Charlie. You must understand the…the pain, the hardship I have been going through."

I cringed, distressed. I was a pain. A burden. _Oh, God, Mother, I'm so sorry…so sorry…_

"To have my own daughter – the girl I vowed to take care of! – working since the age of sixteen, more than two jobs, every day. To have my own daughter practically starve – in my care! You're caring more for me than I for you! I…I…" she broke off, coughing. "I can't believe myself. How _cruel _can a mother get?" And then _she _was the one sobbing.

"I'm not a burden…" I whispered. I continued, louder. Renée, not hearing me, continued to cry.

"No," I said firmly. "No, Mom, you're wrong. You're not cruel. Far from it." A smile escaped my lips. "I love you, Mom."

Renée's tear-filled eyes darted up to meet mine. "I…love you too, sweetheart. I really do."

We embraced. Then, those words. Those dreaded words. The four words that doomed me, condemned me, tortured me.

"Honey…the doctor called."

Oh, God. No. _Honey, the doctor called. Doctor called…doctor…doctor…called…_

I bit my lip, impatient at the sudden, awkward silence.

"Bella…I will…" she paused mid-sentence, changing her train of thought entirely. "Do you remember what color flowers?"

"Blue," I whispered. "Everything will be blue, Mom. I'll coordinate it, it'll be beautiful…"

Renée's hand was placed once again gently on my quivering head. "Baby…I'm so proud of you. I love you…take care of yourself…"

Her hand fell limply to her side. Then, like the softest breeze… "Blue…for… his eyes. Charlie's eyes…Charlie." Her eyes closed. "Charlie…"

She continued breathing, soft, staggered breaths so far apart that I doubted their existence.

"I love you, Mom." I planted a tender kiss on her pasty forehead.

I never spoke to her again.

Renée died that night.

**A/N – Please, drop a review. They make me absurdly happy. If you have any suggestions, review. Any highlights to this first chapter – which is more of a prologue, really – tell me. Review. OH! Disclaimer: Be reasonable. If I owned Twilight, would I be writing Fanfiction? No. No, no, and definitely not. **

**I look forward to reviews. (That was a hint.) **


	2. Family Matters

**Disclaimer: **

**Carlisle – Vampiratelvr, you truly are a klutz. You managed to trip and get a concussion and forget who owned all the rights to the magnificent Twilight series! Honestly, you're worse than Bella!**

**Me – OOOH! The Twilight series! I own them! I do! I do!**

**Rosalie – Carlisle, she doesn't have a concussion. She's just being plain stupid. Nobody like **_**her **_**could possibly invent a character as perfect as **_**me**_**. Stupid little human.**

**Me – Eh? **

**Well, enjoy the second chapter of ****All That Matters**

**Family Matters**

Cold, gentle hands shook me from my stupor.

"Isabella Swan," a soft, soothing voice whispered.

"Bella," I corrected automatically, staring at the textured linoleum flooring beneath my feet. "It's Bella, that's what Mom always called me, that's what I'm going by, even though I used to hate it and Isabella probably sounds more elegant and…" I trailed off, realization dawning on me like the strike of lightning. Oh, God. No. No. No.

_MOTHER. _

I tried to scream, I tried to yell, I tried to curse. But all that would come out was a frightened, distressed whimper. "Mom."

And, just like that, I fainted.

"_Do you think she'll be okay?" _

"_I think so, but she sure has been out for a while." _

"_Maybe cold water…" _

"_Don't want to put her in more of a shock. She might even go comatose." _

"_I hope not…" _

Oh, God. The voices. The noise. Overwhelming, embracing, consuming… Too much. It was just too much. I moaned with the pain.

Silence. Complete and utter silence. It was sudden. It was overpowering, painfully so. I forced those thoughts out of my head, trying to ignore the pain of silence. Silence was like death. Sudden, unwanted, sometimes unnoticed.

Putting a shaking hand to my forehead, I sat up wearily, pulling with me heavy bedcovers. I shook them off angrily. I wouldn't let anything hold me down anymore…not anything.

I looked around. The room was white. The bedcovers were white. Several machines rolled up close to the wall were white. The door at the far side of the room was white. I looked at my hand. It, too, was white.

And suddenly, I felt powerless. It was irrational, I knew, to feel this way to the blankness. But white was death. White was nothingness. And that was what I felt. _Nothingness. Loneliness_. White was so uncaring. I should feel horrible, I should feel sad, I should feel lost. But instead…I felt _nothing_.

I sat up straight when I realized that I wasn't alone in the room.

Leaning against the wall was a man dressed in –dare I say it- white. His blonde hair cascaded over to cover his ears, and his eyes were a light honey color. _He must be the doctor…_I thought. But once coherent words formed in my mind, I still had the task of getting them out of my mouth, which seemed to be frozen tightly shut. I knew it wasn't. I knew that I just didn't want to speak, didn't want more words to be spoken that made me _feel_.

The doctor still stood, staring at me. Simply staring. Yet it felt like he was… reading me. Learning me. Trying to figure out what was going on inside my head.

He pushed himself off of the wall, taking a step towards me. I couldn't help but think that he must have another job – as a star model, at the very least. He certainly deserved to be. He was beautiful, impossibly so. Looking at him made my head spin. Of course, that might also have something to do with the confusion whirling throughout my mind.

"Bella," he said, and I will never forget how he said that. The sorrow, the regret, the open and blatant curiosity etched into a voice that was clearly supposed to show no emotion. It moved me. It made me wonder: Did this man _care_?

"Where…am…I?" My voice was raspy, my words unsure. The man smiled gently at me. Reassuring me. Immediately, I felt safe. Unnaturally safe…I shouldn't have felt safe. But he made me feel so cared for…like he would never hurt me. And it was as if I didn't have any choice in the matter but to believe his silent promise.

"You are in the Kindred Hospital in Phoenix, Arizona. Yesterday, the school administration board sent someone to drop by your house – lack of recent attendance called their attention to you. They found you there, silently by your mother's body. They brought you here. I am Carlisle Cullen, a doctor from Forks, Washington's hospital. I was on convention down here in Phoenix, and was visiting Kindred before returning home to my work. I saw the ambulance. I saw…." He paused, contemplating. "Will this be too much for you?" he asked, and I knew the concern in his voice was genuine. I saw it reflected in his eyes.

Would it? What did he see? How bad did my How bad did _I _look? I put those thoughts aside; it didn't really matter. I just wanted the truth.

"Go on," I whispered.

He hesitated, then continued. "I saw one stretcher being taken into the emergency wing of the hospital…and the other being taken to the morgue."

It was too much. I snapped, the numbness within me breaking apart, bearing my weaknesses for the entire world to torment. Tears filled my eyes, pain replacing curiosity, sadness replacing indifference.

Horror filled the man's strange, butterscotch eyes. "Miss…Bella…please, I didn't mean to make you cry…I'm sorry, forgive me. Please?" He took my hand in his, the cold pressure decidedly welcome.

"No…I'm sorry," I apologized through my tears, fighting the urge to completely break down. "Forgive me, Dr. Cullen. I should have been…prepared for…"

He cut in. "Let's you and I forgive each other, shall we?" I nodded weakly. It seemed the best plan, the best way to find out what happened. He smiled tenderly, and stroked a lost strand of chocolate brown hair back behind my ear.

"You've only just woken up, I take it, as I have been checking on you consistently every… five minutes since you came in." I tried to cut in, to say that he needn't have done that, but he raised his other hand to my lips. "No, don't protest. That's the fact of the matter, Miss Swan." He paused, looking uncomfortable, uncertain. "Ah…do you wish to talk about the, ah, future now…or later?"

"Now, please. I know that otherwise I'd just be…putting off the inevitable, as it were." I managed a weak smile.

He was taken aback, that much was evident, but he recovered quickly. "All right …Miss Swan. Bella. Our records say that you have no living relatives. Is that true? Do you know of anyone who may not be on file?"

I grimaced. "No. Both my parents were only children, and their parents have already passed away, and of course _my _parents…" I trailed off, looking away. I couldn't bear to look at him. I couldn't bear to see the pity that I knew must be etched on his features, sunken far into his depthless golden eyes.

"Ah. And, do you know of anyone who might be willing to take you in? A close friend, perhaps? A friend of the family?"

I snorted. "Friends? Like those characters in books who are 'always there' for the main character, listening to their problems and such? They do stuff together and go places and see things and give each other makeovers and talk about boys and all that jazz?"

Slowly, Carlisle Cullen nodded. "I suppose, that's one definition…"

"Then, no. I don't have any friends. I go to school a couple days a week, work a job at the corner store, the library, and babysitting some of the teacher's kids. Wait, do teachers count as friends? Because I have a pretty close relationship with the English teacher – that is, I would, if she didn't hate me for missing school all the time. No? That doesn't count? Well, why the heck would I have friends, huh? I wear cheap, used clothes on discount from the aforementioned corner store, and I am always reading. I am plain and skinny and have no appeal whatsoever to the opposite sex, nor have any sort of experience in making friendly acquaintance with either sex. So, no. I don't have friends." I tried to laugh, but it came out more as a sob.

And then he was sitting beside me on the bed. He wrapped his long arms around me and placed my head so that it leaned on the starched white lapel of his doctor's coat. His hand, so different from my mother's, so different from my father's, stroked my hair, wiping it away from my face. It rested softly against my cheek.

"Bella," he said after several moment of silence, save for my pathetic sobbing into his shirt. "Do you want to go into foster care?"

His question took me by surprise. Of course I didn't… "Well, don't I have to? I mean, where else could I go? I have no one…" I mumbled, the last bit so quietly I would have thought it incoherent.

He turned my face so that I looked straight at him. I found that I could not look away; his golden eyes were enthralling. "You do not have no one. You can come live with my family and me. My wife, Esme, would love for you to live with us. You deserve a family, Bella. You deserve it, if no one else does."

I couldn't believe it. He _did _care. He was wasting his time checking on me… making sure that I was still asleep. And now he was talking with me, comforting me. He was offering me a home. So very like a father…

Before I could stop myself, I asked, on utter impulse, "Do you have any children?"

He chuckled, and I could feel him shake with ill concealed humor at my expense. "Yes, five. They were in here earlier, you know. When you were brought in. Very concerned about you. All of them are teenagers – our youngest is seventeen."

My mouth dropped open; I couldn't help it. _FIVE teenagers? In the SAME house? _"How old are you, Dr. Cullen?" I questioned, rather impolitely. I immediately regretted my words, trying to take them back. "Er, I mean no offense, sir, it's just…five? Teenagers?"

And then he was laughing again. "Oh, Bella! It's just – _snicker snicker_ – the look on your..._snicker_….face! I'll never…forget it!" He took a deep, calming breath, while I just stared at him, dumbfounded, confused. I pulled back from my previous position, leaning on his stone-like chest, and quirked my eyebrow. Yet I couldn't keep the obvious question out of my eyes.

"They're adopted."

Oh.

That would explain it.

Doctor Carlisle Cullen looked to be in his early to mid-twenties, so to have a seventeen-year-old child…I shuddered. He'd have been between five and eight years old when…_stop. Stop there. That's disgusting. _

He looked at me, grinning. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "And I'm not that young," he continued. "I'm actually twenty-nine, only a few years out of med school." He raised a thin blonde eyebrow at me appraisingly, as if gauging my reaction to his unnerving confession.

I studied him, wide-eyed, shocked. This man, this appallingly handsome man - what with his light gold eyes, his clearly muscular chest and arms, angular face, perfect features, shining blonde hair, long, delicate fingers, and – the most disconcerting of them all his features – the knowing, playful, guarded look that made me feel so comfortable around him - could _not _be nearing his thirties! It was simply impossible…

Suddenly, he looked at his watch, interrupting my apparent ogling. "Well, I ought to be going. I have an appointment. I'll leave you to think on your decision, okay? No pressure, Bella. Don't worry. No pressure." His voice was meant to be calming, soothing, but they had the exact opposite effect. I was missing something. What was I missing?

_Wait. _Something caught my attention. _Did he…did he really?_ Dr. Cullen walked out of the door; I saw the corner of his coat disappear down the hallway._ My wife, Esme, would love for you to live with us. You deserve a family, Bella. You deserve it, if no one else does. You deserve it…if no one…you deserve it…you deserve…it…'_

"Wait! Dr. Cullen, wait!" I called out, stumbling out of the bed. My head spun, and I slumped to the floor.

Or, I would have, if a pair of pale white arms hadn't appeared out of the middle of nowhere and shot out to grab me.

"Whoa there, Miss Swan." He pulled me up, keeping his hands at my sides for an extra moment, making sure that I was stabilized. He sat me back down on the bed, the large metal springs beneath me screeching with complaint. "Now, why exactly were you yelling at me?"

I tilted my head down at the linoleum floor, my hair cascading to fall in front of my face. For that I was glad, as I could feel my cheeks burning brightly with embarrassment and shame. "I wasn't yelling _at _you…merely _for _you," I hastened to explain. "I'm sorry…"

Dr. Cullen smiled. "No need to be sorry, my dear."

I smiled tentatively, not meeting his gaze, still staring at the floor. The movement felt strange on my face, a face which had been sculpted into a worried frown for so long…but, oddly enough, it felt _good_.

And then I remembered why I had called him back in the first place. "Oh! Dr. Cullen, did you…did you mean…what you said?"

I managed to look up from the floor, however extremely fascinating it may have been. When his eyes met mine, they were extremely curious, and – I thought – hopeful.

"What I said about what?"

I couldn't bear it anymore. Couldn't bear the shame of my hope, the horror at my forwardness. Of course he didn't mean it – and now I was trying to force myself upon the hospitality of his family! "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…w-what I mean is, your family … I'm sorry, sir, I shouldn't have asked-"

He cut me off, a smile gracing his flawless face. The effect was stunning. "Do you mean what I think you mean? Are you willing to come live with my family?"

I hesitated; surely he didn't mean it…he couldn't…not some poor orphan like me. But, his smile seemed genuine, his words in earnest – and if that wasn't enough to sway me, I knew that his eyes were bright, excited, honest. So I answered as I felt.

"If you and your family are willing to have me, Sir."

He frowned. "Carlisle."

I tried again. "Dr. Cullen."

"Carlisle."

"Carlisle?"  
He smiled. "I think we shall become very good friends, Bella Swan." With a grand gesture he took my hand firmly in his and gave it a good, solid shake. "I think we shall, indeed."

After he finished with his appointment at the hospital, Carlisle took me to my house to gather a few necessary belongings. On the way there, he called his wife – Esme – and throughout the conversation, I sat nervously, biting my lip. _What if she says no? What if she gets mad at him for asking? When it's really my fault…_

He hung up the phone. "Bella…" he began slowly. I waited, filled with dread, tense. "Esme is ecstatic. I heard her tell Alice, one of our daughters, and shortly thereafter I heard Alice scream with excitement. Esme tells me that she is currently bouncing up and down, shouting with joy."

I looked at him doubtfully. "I thought you said your youngest was seventeen?"

He was confused. "She is…" An awkward silence filled the air. "Alice is quite child-like sometimes, I'll admit it. She puts her heart and soul into everything she does, and loves simply everything and everyone. Except Wal-Mart. She hates Wal-Mart. It's her own personal Hell. Although I must warn you," he said, his voice turning serious, his eyes boring into mine. "She is rather…fond…of clothing and makeovers. Do not be surprised if she tries to force you into one." I gawked. Makeovers? He warns me about _makeovers_? Alice…I smiled. She sounds so nice…like a sister that I've always wanted. Carlisle continued, unaware of my sudden burst of confidence, of sheer happiness. "If she does, and you don't feel like getting a makeover or jammed into revealing clothing, yell for one of the boys. They'll come help you. Or Esme will."

I pointed down the road onto which had become so familiar in my years of living along it. We pulled into my driveway.

"So, you've heard about Alice, and then there's Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and of course Esme-" He cut himself off, staring at the windshield as if he saw a giant purple bug squashed on it.

His eyes grew wide with astonishment when he saw the place in which I had been living, even wider when he saw my 'bedroom.'

When I began gathering up the sheets from my 'bed', he placed a staying hand on my shoulder. "Bella, what do you need those for?" he asked.

"Well, I thought that I should bring my sheets…just so I cause as little trouble as possible during my stay…"

"Bella, there are already sheets on your bed." His voice was disapproving, as if he wanted me to do as little work as possible.

"I get a _bed_?!" Immediately, I blushed after my outburst. I don't know what I was expecting – maybe for him to laugh, to say how silly I was. But he just looked at me, calculatingly. With, not pity, but sorrow in his depthless golden eyes.

"Bella. You get a bed_room_."

Before even I knew it, we had gathered everything I wanted to keep – my books, my few clothes, some reminders of my mother and father – and we had exited the house and locked it behind us. When the lock _clicked_, I felt a sense of future, of moving on. Of a new life ahead of me.

Just how new I was sure. At least, not until I had gotten off of the plane with Carlisle, sat in the passenger seat as he drove us up to Forks, gone down the three-mile stretch of driveway…and then I saw it: a huge white mansion in the midst of a large expanse of dark green property. Through the foliage around me I could see one thing – more trees. And more trees.

But trees were normal here in Forks, according to Carlisle. What wasn't normal was the house – along with the many pairs of interested topaz eyes staring unblinkingly at me through a downstairs window.

**A/N – I know, so mean – and right when she gets there, too! But, my friends, this is a six page document on Word, I have two large projects due very soon, and I'm technically not allowed to be on the computer. **

**Please, everybody, drop a review if you can. Include: What you liked/disliked about the chapter (Keep it nice, guys) and who you think is going to talk to first upon entering the house. **


	3. Unintentional Fright

**Disclaimer: **

**Me – I sniff don't sniff own Twilight? SNIFF**

**Emmett – No, silly Vampiratelvr, that's not true. Of course you own Twilight! snickers**

**Me – YAY! I own Twilight! I own Twilight!**

**Esme - smacks Emmett Stop teasing the poor human, Emmett!**

**Rosalie – Don't worry, Esme, it doesn't really matter. She's so stupid that she doesn't understand that he's teasing her. **

**Me – Eh? **

**Enjoy the third chapter of ****All That Matters**

**Unintentional Fright**

One thought ran through my head over and over as Carlisle slammed the driver's door behind him. The resounding noise made my head spin. Thoughts whirled throughout it, but only one stuck from the rapidly changing torrent. _What am I doing? _I would have contemplated the matter further, but Carlisle opened the passenger door for me with a flourish. I smiled at him, tentatively, nervously, and he gave me a reassuring smile back. "You'll be all right, Bella," he consoled me. "Just be yourself."

Ah. Yes. Myself. And who exactly is that? The shy, quiet girl at school? The poor girl who works extra jobs? The tough girl working night shifts at the corner store? The bookworm? The romance lover? The potential A student (if I came to class rather than stay at home worrying myself to death over my mother)? _Who am I?_

I took Carlisle's hand and slid off the smooth leather seat and out the door. The door slammed shut behind me. _Oh, God. What am I doing? _I shuffled up the path to the double doors, trying my best to keep up with the doctor. _Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…_He raised a hand to the door, tendons strained in a fist. _Oh, God…_He knocked. The door opened.

And then everything sped up. Immediately inside was a pretty woman with caramel-colored ringlets of hair framing a pale, heart-shaped face. By my assumption, this woman was Esme, Carlisle's wife. She was lovely – quite like him, in fact. Pale and absurdly beautiful. She smiled at me and opened her mouth as if to speak, but was interrupted as a black and white blur flashed to my side.

_"Bella!"_ it shrieked. I blinked.

Beside me was a short girl, shorter even than me, with glossy, ink-black hair chopped so short that it didn't even reach her small, slightly pointed ears. My eyes widened. She was as beautiful as Dr. Cullen and his wife, but in a very different way. Her body was petite, graceful, otherworldly. Her pale skin visibly shown with brightness, and her melted butterscotch eyes shone with the same glowing excitement. She grinned up at me, and her teeth were a dazzling white.

"Do you like shopping?" she asked so quickly that for a moment I had to contemplate what exactly she had just said.

Out of all possible questions, this was one of the last I expected. _How are you?, _maybe? Or, _Why are you wearing clothes like that? _Or even, _What are you doing in my house? _But, really, I wasn't expecting a question at all. I don't know what I expected – for the family to immediately hate me, or ignore me, or…but I had no inclination that they would ask me a question. I felt exposed. I couldn't think of a diplomatic answer, so I responded with the truth. "I…don't know…"

The girl – Alice, I assumed – let her jaw literally drop in astonishment. "How do you not know?!" she cried. She seemed offended. I rushed to explain things, to explain that my family didn't have any money, as we had all wasted it on treatment for Charlie's emphysema that we knew couldn't be treated anyway, and the rest was put to Renee, and to explain that I'd never been shopping at a mall, not since I was six, anyway, but I'd been shopping in my dreams before. But the words were a jumble in my head.

"I…well, I…my family, we…I haven't….money, we don't, we haven't…"

I trailed off. The pixie girl wasn't listening. Her eyes were glazed over with a filmy substance, and she stared straight ahead, unblinking. "Uh…Alice?" I asked. I took a step closer. "Alice?"

The doctor and his wife re-entered the room, and it was only then that I realized they had left.

"Ah." Carlisle didn't sound shocked, or worried, or confused, even, though his daughter was in a trance. He caught my arm, pulling me away from her. "Don't worry about Alice, Bella. She does that sometimes." He looked at me for a moment, the seconds stretching into what seemed like minutes, or hours, or days. An eternity. He looked at me with a calm, steady gaze; its meaning was obvious. _I am not keeping something from you. This is not strange. _ But I saw the silent plea in his eyes. _Don't ask. Just don't ask. I promise, it's okay. Just don't ask. _

Alice started. "Sorry about that…I just…"she trailed off, looking at Carlisle for help. _Don't ask…_

"It's all right, Alice, don't worry about it," I said, though my curiosity was struggling wildly with my brain, with the promise I had made, but not voiced. The promise still held. So did the curiosity. But I bit my tongue and kept silent, much to my distress and angst.

She smiled. "Thanks."

_Silence. _

"So, why don't you know if you like shopping?" she asked, and this time, her voice was gentle, understanding; not at all the accusatory tone she had used not minutes before.

"I…haven't gone to the mall since I was six. I shop for groceries twice a month, and more if we can spare some money. I buy clothes at the corner store once a year – I get a discount because I work there, or I wouldn't even have these," I finished, gesturing to the t-shirt I wore that I had snatched from my stash of clothes under my pillow back home. It was too small, and had holes in it; the corner store was a good home for moths. It was brown, though, and I loved the softness of that color. I relished in the safety of the color. It was quiet, soft…comforting. Not a stand-out color. One that didn't make people look at me. I looked hesitantly at Alice.

Her eyes found mine. They were filled with an unshielded sadness. "I'm sorry, Bella…but you'll be happy here, I promise! I really like you." And then her eyes brightened. "The mall won't close for six hours. Wanna come?"

In my shock at the invitation, I blurted, "You'd go with me? You'd be my friend?" Immediately, I blushed. _God, I'm a dunce…that was stupid…incredibly stupid… she'll think you have mental disabilities… way to go, Bella, way to go. _

But Alice just grinned. "I have no doubt," she assured me, wrapping her arms around my waist. And, like before with Carlisle, I felt safe. Loved.

And I relished the feeling.

After Alice released me, Esme said apologetically, "I'm sorry dear, but you should probably wait until tomorrow to take Bella out shopping." Alice pouted as Esme patted her adopted daughter's head consolingly. She turned to me, her golden eyes fixating on mine. "Are you tired, Bella, dear?"

"Tired? Oh…I…" _Dear. _She'd called me _dear_. She'd called Alice dear. And me…like I was already her daughter… "You called me dear…" I said, wonder filling my voice.

Shamefacedly, Esme apologized, "I'm sorry, dea- Bella. I didn't mean to-"

"No!" I cried, horrified. "No. I didn't mean… thank you. Thank you so much. I…" Esme pulled me into a loving, motherly hug.

"Of course, dear. You are already a part of our hearts. So, you are already part of our family." I buried my face into her soft, curly hair. Like my mother…so much like my mother.

She pulled back and kissed my forehead, her lips strangely cold against my skin. "There, there, dear. It's all right, Bella. Here – Alice will show you to your room. It used to be the guest room, but Alice had a bit of…fun today, once she heard you were coming."

"Come on, Bella!" Alice said impatiently, snatching my hand from its limp position at my side.

She pulled me out of the family room, where the plasma screen covered the entire wall, the carpet was soft and luxurious, the couches large and fashionable. Past the kitchen, where the heavenly scent of spaghetti wafted out into the halls. I smiled.

It already felt like home. _Home_. Not a house, for this was a house that I wasn't necessarily used to, what with the fancy furniture and décor and all… but a _home_. A place with family, with friends, with people who I loved and loved me back. I felt like I could live here forever if I wanted to, like I would be accepted. Past the laundry room, past the back sliding glass door that looked out upon a large grassy stretch of land that reached to the woods. Sparrows and finches and sapsuckers wandered about, flying and twittering and hopping amongst rows upon rows of beautifully delicate flowers.

Up the stairs – and Alice froze, her eyes glazed, staring, once again, blankly ahead of her.

Another figure greeted me at the top of the stairs, although, with not quite as warm a welcome. It cast a dark shadow on everything in my vision. It was a boy, about my age, with the perfect, flawless features that categorized them as Cullens. I wondered vaguely if, if they adopted me, I'd look like that. His hair was bronze – darker, as light was absent from the hallway.

His stature should have frightened me, but it didn't.

But I was afraid. Very afraid. I was frozen in my tracks. I felt like my very life was in danger. But it wasn't for the reason I should have been.

_It was his eyes. _They were black – coal black. Filled with hate, with anger, with unidentifiable emotions that hurt me, confused me.

_I thought Dr. Cullen said his kids didn't mind me coming…_ Clearly, one of them did.

Then the boy moved. He walked slowly down the stairs, silently, stealthily. If I weren't looking directly at him, I wouldn't see him. He melted into the background. I glanced at Alice, who, much to my dismay, was still in her trance.

I could hear my heart rate speed up, and a choking sensation filled me. And I had thought I would be so safe here, so loved…So safe, and now I was going to die. I didn't know how I knew it, but the feeling was unmistakable.

The boy was on the step above, staring down at me, locks of bronze falling in front of his angelic, glaring face. A pale, stone-like hand reached out to me imploringly. It curved around my neck, and I shivered. It felt so…_good_. Yet terrifying. Horribly and unbelievably terrifying. The hand was cold, icily so, and my eyes tried to close in the ecstasy of it; his touch was electrifying. But I forced my eyes open, because I knew, subconsciously, that if I closed them, I might never open them again. He brought his other hand up so that he faced me square on, and rested it on my opposite shoulder.  
The adrenaline kicked in, but I still felt trapped. It didn't work perfectly like it did in the movies – the only thing that was the same was the slow motion. Everything was as if it was ten times slower than it should have been. And, somehow, it made the fact that I was still stuck all the more frightening. I twitched experimentally. Yup. Stuck. His grip, though light, was satisfactory for his obvious purpose. I wouldn't be able to budge, not that I could if I wanted to. I continued to stand stock still, petrified. I wanted to scream for help, to call for Alice, who I assumed was deep in her trance and had no idea of what her brother was currently doing. I wanted to slap him, to run away…but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I shut my eyes, waiting, waiting for whatever was to come. I resolved to be quiet when it happened. When he killed me. I didn't want to see the knife. I didn't want to see the blood; I only hoped I would die before I smelled it.

His grip tightened on my neck; his thumb pressed hard under my jaw, as if feeling my pulse. It was then that I knew terror, true terror. A low whimper escaped my lips with the last of my breath.

A moment passed. I waited. My eyes were squeezed shut, tears brimming beneath my lids. _Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…_

"Excuse me," he whispered huskily, voice tight, and then he shoved past me, and ran down the stairs the way I had come.

All I could do was stare in shock. My hand flew to my throat, checking my heart rate. It was wild. _Oh, God…_ I sank down to sit on the steps. I don't know why I thought I would die; he only hated me, it's not like he would be driven to kill me. But his eyes…God, they were glaring daggers. And they pierced through my skin. In my mind's eye I could picture it, picture the blood flowing from my arms and legs and stomach, my chest ripped open, my heart still bleeding, my hair matted with my own blood. _Oh, God…_

"Bella?" Alice's voice awakened me from the morbid horror of my thoughts. "Bella…oh, dear." She knelt down to my level. "Bella. Bella, look at me. Bella, please." I shook my head stubbornly. I couldn't get the image out of my head, couldn't let the immense relief brimming in my heart overtake me. I wanted to wallow. But not in my own blood, not out of hatred from another, but of self-hate, self-degradation, something I had to live with my whole life.

"Come here," she said, and lifted me up in her tiny arms with shocking strength. But I couldn't question her now. Not when…not when…

My head spun, my eyes closed mechanically. My ears shut out the outside world. My nose made contact with the plush carpet.

Hm. I knew Alice had been taking me on a tour of the Cullen's home, but I wasn't expecting to become so familiar with the decorative rug until much later.

When I awoke, I was astonished by my unexpected surroundings.

"Bella, I know you're awake, so don't even try to pretend," came an all-too familiar voice.

I sighed, relenting. Opening my eyes reluctantly, I was greeted by Alice, her irresistible grin looming over me. "What are you, the Cheshire Cat?" I shot at her, and her face fell like she had had the world's biggest disappointment.

I was shocked at myself, appalled. "Alice! I'm sorry! I didn't mean that." The words rushed out of my mouth, and I stumbled up a bit. She had offered me her unyielding friendship, and I return it with the effects of my morning grumpiness. "I'm so sorry, I…I swear, Alice, I-"

She placed a cold hand upon my bare shoulder; the plain brown t-shirt I had slept in had finally given in at its seams, the fabric barely clinging to my shoulders. "Bella. Don't worry, Bella. I know. I understand." She rubbed the fabric clinging to my back; the hairs of my neck and arms stood up at her touch.

"But, to make it up to me…" she hinted. I cocked an eyebrow, having no clue as to what she was talking about.

She tried again. "You promised, Bella…" Still no answer. Wait…oh, no… not…no, she wouldn't. I looked in her eyes. The answer was very plain.

Yes. Yes, she would.

"Shopping!" she squealed happily. I groaned inwardly.

Alice frowned. "What? You don't even know if you like shopping – so why did you groan?" She stared at me, her topaz eyes genuinely concerned.

"I, well, uh…I…" How awkward. What was I supposed to say? I did promise her, after all. "I'll go. I don't have any money, but that's okay. I'll just window shop. It'll be fun!" I tried hard to sound convincing, to sound light and airy, as if I had not a care in the world. But I failed, and failed miserably. My voice, though cheery, had dullness to it, and the result was a pathetic flatness. I winced. I must sound so greedy, so selfish. So self-pitying.

But, as always, Alice did the unexpected.

She laughed. I glared at her, affronted.

"Oh, silly Bella! You really thought you'd have to _pay_?" Her musical laughter was enchanting as it was loud; so much so that I felt the urge to laugh along with her. I shook the feeling; it was unnerving. Like I had almost no choice, like my feelings were no longer my own. Her laugh was truly contagious.

"Of course I would have to pay, Alice. Who else would? My fairy godmother?" I added, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"Me!" And with that, she skipped over to a large oak chest of drawers against the far wall, opened it viciously, and began rifling around inside.

I stared at her incredulously. "Alice, you're what, seventeen? You can't have a lot of money…" Mentally, I fretted. What if she was planning on taking money from Carlisle? What would I do? To whom did my loyalties lie? To Alice? To Carlisle?

She snickered at my expression. "Silly Bella," she said again, much to my annoyance, "We get allowance!" Of course. _Allowance _was enough to go on a giant shopping spree. Uh-huh. And especially for designer clothes like the ones Alice wore.

"Alice, no one gets enough allowance to go on a shopping spree the size of…of Texas."

She giggled, flashing me a grin, and whipped out a fuzzy pink wallet from the polka-dotted purse in her hands. She opened it, showing me a wide array of cards. Credit cards. I felt my mouth drop open and stay there on the floor.

She saw the disbelief and astonishment in my face, and likely noted my jaw halfway to China by way of digging through the center of the Earth. "Carlisle's a doctor, a _good _doctor, and we've got tons of shares of stock. And believe me; we're safe with the stock." She tapped her head.

I laughed. "Oh, so now you're not just my fairy godmother – you're a psychic, too!"

She smiled wider, if possible. "Yep!"

She skipped from the room after tossing a wad of colorful clothing in my general direction, yelling as she shut the door behind her, "Put those on!"

I giggled. Alice was such a good sister to have. _Sister._ I thought of her as my _sister._ I fought the urge to cry. She was so smart, kind, weird, and funny. I reflected on her response to my psychic jab. "_'You're a psychic, too?' 'Yep!'" _I giggled again, and then stopped abruptly. Because a small part of me wondered if she was serious.

My arms were aching. Bags upon bags of clothing and accessories from ever store imaginable hung from them, banging against my hips as I walked. Alice, on the other hand, had a bag in each hand, and they swung along merrily with her energetic step.

At one point I asked her, "What did you buy? I didn't see you try anything on." She simply smiled mysteriously, then turned her back on me and skipped away.

I rolled my eyes, but for once, my smile wasn't fake, plastered. It was me. All me. The me that lived behind a solid brick wall had finally broken free. The genuine me.

My smile grew.

We pulled up the driveway, and I was grateful when I recognized the house. I wasn't quite sure where Alice was taking me – she had mentioned something, jokingly, I thought, that we were going to go down to Portland to yet another mall. After ten minutes of staring worriedly at her still-grinning face, I wasn't so sure.

The Porsche glided to a halt, and we hopped out of the car. I jogged around to the trunk and tried the handle, but it was locked. "Alice!" I called.

"Yeah, just a sec," she muttered back distractedly. She seemed to be concentrating on something intensely, like a really messed up algebraic equation that makes no sense and has no right to exist. "Well, Bella, I gotta run – Jasper's waiting for me, and he's getting impatient! Have fun bringing your bags in!"

"But…Alice, the trunk-" She ran in the door and slammed it shut behind her. "Is…locked." I sighed heavily and leaned against the back of the car tiredly. _By all means, Jasper_, I thought angrily, _take Alice away and leave me to fend for myself_. The rest of the Cullen siblings had stayed in the respective rooms, and I let them be. Besides, I hadn't had much time before going shopping with Alice this morning, but I hoped to meet them soon. On our way to the mall, Alice had described each of her siblings in detail – excepting one, of course. _Edward_. With the name came the memories, so I didn't think of it. But sometimes, it was just too hard to forget.

Emmett was a 'huge hulk of a guy', but with a 'heart of gold', according to Alice. (And with a brain of fuzz. That came as an afterthought.) He was sports-minded, and loved video games and Rosalie, who was a gorgeous blonde with a high-and-mighty attitude, but only to those who she didn't know. She loved her family dearly, and Alice 'knew', somehow, that she would 'learn to accept' me.

Jasper was Alice's boyfriend, and the one that she spent the most time talking about. He had blonde hair, was really muscular, and…and that's all the PG detail that Alice went into. He was very empathetic, and could almost always understand what you were feeling. He was a little shy, so Alice warned me that he might stay away from me. And, if he _did _come near me, to find some excuse to move away – he would only come near me at first due to peer pressure. Alice hurried to assure me that this would not be because of me, but because of his shyness around strangers.

I woke immediately from my daydream when I saw a figure emerge from the house. My eyes widened, and my hands clutched at my throat instinctively.

_It was him. _Him. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. For the second time in two days, I found myself helpless, completely and utterly so. He came closer faster than I had estimated; within seconds, he was standing right in front of me.

My mind was wild with terror. It was rational; I had been completely traumatized by this boy just the day before, and he now stood in front of me again.

But, my body wouldn't respond to the fear.

_I wasn't afraid. _My eyes widened with that realization, and then he spoke.

"Hello."

I stared at him, blank shock evident on my face. I opened my mouth to reply, to ask him what happened, to ask him why his eyes were-

_Gold. _They were gold. Light, like butterscotch. Like the eyes of the rest of his family. "My name is Edward Cullen, although I gather you already knew that." His voice was silken, smooth – not at all the hoarse, husky voice of yesterday. When I didn't speak, he closed his eyes as if in pain. "I suppose there's no way to…to reconcile my actions." His words were sure, but his tone questioning.

I surprised myself when I countered, "Actually, there is." His eyes, previously downcast, flashed up to meet mine. He looked hopeful. I felt myself drowning, drowning in his eyes…in the golden whirlpool…so…warm…

"There is?" he affirmed, snapping me out of my daze.

"If you're wondering how to redeem yourself from touching me yesterday, or whatever you were doing…" I kept my voice steady, and I was proud of myself. I wasn't afraid…I wasn't afraid. _Yeah, keep telling yourself that…_ "Then I don't think you can." My tone was harsh, and, surprisingly, confident.

He flinched. "I…deserve it. No, I deserve worse. I-"

I continued, ignoring him. "I don't know what happened, but I want to. So the only way I'll forgive you is if you explain. Explain what happened, and you're off the hook."

"I…I'm so sorry…" he whispered. "I must have frightened you…I didn't mean to, didn't want to." He paused there, and the way his jaw was clamped shut told me he wasn't planning on saying anything more on the matter.

"Hmm," I said, and began pacing in front of him, as if contemplating his fate. "That, Mr. Cullen," I said primly, "is _not _an explanation." I raised an eyebrow at him dramatically. "Care to expand further on this weak and unbelievable excuse?" Halfway through, my voice changed to a shockingly pathetic British accent. His face remained stoic, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Bella," he replied in a silken voice. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to meet me. After…what happened, I knew that if I were you, I'd want to be alone." It was hard _not _to believe him. His voice was compelling, honest – but it sounded rehearsed. He smiled invitingly, and I was instantly on my guard – _suck up! _He was trying to dazzle me. I had to admit it to myself – it was working.

He, however, was caught quite unawares at my sudden, menacing glare. I smirked, satisfied that I had escaped the prison of his devilishly entrancing eyes.

"I didn't want to be alone," I said quietly, and at first I didn't think he'd heard me. I sat with a slight _thump _on the trunk of the Turbo. Staring out at the gloomy wall of trees, I continued, "I could never want to be alone, not again, not really alone. I need to know that someone's there, and I…was so _afraid_ when I saw you – I thought you… wanted to hurt me…or…you looked so angry…"

His eyes shut, just as mine had been yesterday, as if in pain. An intense pain, a surreal pain. A pain which is incomprehensible to all those who have not felt it. The pain of loss, of guilt, of blame. Of self-hatred, regret.

And in that instant, I lost all former hatred, former fear of the man – the _boy _– standing before me. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, as he covered his face in his hands. His bronze hair fell limply betwixt his fingers. His hands clenched tightly around several strands. As he turned his tortured face up to the dark clouds, I felt nothing for him but sympathy…and interest. An unyielding curiosity that tugged at my mind and my heart. I longed to reach out to him, to console him, to tell him that it was okay, that he shouldn't wallow in his guilt. That his guilt was wholly unnecessary, that he should forget what happened. But I held myself back.

"Truly, Bella. I am sorry." And, for a short, sad, sweet moment, I thought that I saw a tear drop linger on his eyelash, tremble, and trickle down the side of his upturned face.

Then I felt the rain on my face, too, and I jumped up from the back of the car. Edward's eyes snapped open, as if he was waking up from a dream – or a nightmare - and he jogged the few feet towards me. Popping up the trunk, he grabbed the bags in one of his hands, tendons pulling tight, and then grabbed my hand with his free one. "Come on!" he yelled over a sudden and distressing clap of thunder. "You're going to get soaked out here!" Another clap of thunder, and, "You'll...cold…wet …pneumonia…die!"

His cold hand wrapped around mine felt strange, but oddly protective. Like he wanted to take care of me – like he cared what happened to me. We ran.

A spasm of pain shot throughout me as my foot caught on the edge of the cobblestone path. I fought the urge to roll my eyes – _of course _I would trip while running for cover with a stunningly handsome man – as my knees buckled, my back instinctively arched, and my hands came in front of my face to protect it from the rough path that was flying towards my face at a frightening speed. A second later, contact. I was acutely aware that I should have felt pain by now – I had hit the coldness moments ago. I should have smelt the blood – the bitter, salty tang should have overwhelmed me.

I opened my eyes. My face was smashed into a soft material, and I leaned back to assess my situation.

My eyes widened, and I gasped sharply. I looked into the face of Edward, a face which conveyed many emotions – sadness, guilt, horror, relief, and anger. His arms were wrapped around me, pulling me closely to his chest. The shopping bags were still in his hand, and I admired his swiftness in catching me while holding the five (or more) bags that Alice had shopped for. I couldn't help but notice how muscular his chest looked, _felt, _as I half-stood, pressed against him. He moved as if to help stand, but then took in my sodden appearance, glancing towards the front door that was still many yards away.

With the rain and the path to the door in mind, I'm sure, he hesitated, then scooped me up into his arms and carried me – slightly splayed out over his torso and limbs – quickly up the steps and inside the house.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly as he helped me shrug out of my sopping wet jacket. I simply nodded, though shuddering at the cold. Because right here, right now, with him, I was so much more than just okay.

He led the way up the stairs, pointing out different rooms as Carlisle's study or Alice's room or Emmett's room. I wasn't really paying attention. I was thinking, with his warm tan jacket draped over my shoulders. Once I had taken my own jacket off, he had hurried down the hall and come back in mere seconds, bringing with him a clean, dry jacket of his own to warm me. I tried to refuse it, but he fixed me with a firm stare, and I conceded. I couldn't help but think how kind he was…so very old-fashioned, and at the same time, completely and utterly sincere in his actions.

Then we reached the end of the hallway. He turned, and I followed his example. We faced a plain oaken door. Like the gentleman he was, when he wasn't busy glaring at me, he opened it and gestured inside, smiling politely. I blushed at this show of respect in his own home, and his smile stretched into a grin. But as soon as I passed by him, he visibly stiffened, and his face creased into a tight smile – genuine, but not wholehearted. My eyes left his face.

My breath hitched in my throat.

I was going to _kill _Alice.

**A/N – Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I would like to say that your reviews are much appreciated. I've been having a bad time recently – there's been some backstabbing going around at my school, and it's about me. My friends defended me, and even though the hurt was not justified in its giving, I'm feeling a little bit down. I personally know that reviews help. And yes, that is a hint. Just to say, "Hey, I like this story. I like the way the llama dances the jig, but perhaps the llama's hair should be a midnight blue rather than a dark, almost fuchsia hue. Just a suggestion; good story!" **

**And now you're worried – either for missing the part about the llama or for my sanity. Don't worry, there was nothing about a llama in this particular story. Although I did write one for my friend's birthday that was quite amusing. I'll email it to anyone who wants to read it. **

**So. Reviews. They're very nice, and I appreciate them a lot. Um. This is a long author's note. I'm sorry. Don't spit like a llama! Love, Jojo**


	4. A Weird Way to Start a Friendship

Chapter 4 All That Matters  
A Weird Way to Start a Friendship

The room before me was gorgeous. Absolutely breathtaking. It took me a few seconds before I saw the bed; when I did, I immediately stumbled to it and sat down.

I was surrounded by light blue walls – all except for one wall, which was entirely made out of glass. The window looked out on the large, grassy meadow of the Cullens' front property. Rain, like teardrops, spattered the window pane. Long, shimmering strips of night-sky blue drapery were gathered at either end and fastened with a thin golden cord. The second wall, the one on the left as I entered through the door, was consumed almost entirely by a mural of a white rose. It was beautiful, truly beautiful, but it rubbed a sore spot. My father always gave Renee a white rose on their anniversary. Seeing it this way, without my parents by my side, was cruel. I braced myself for the pain, and then opened my eyes in shock – the pain had not come. I saw Edward glance at me questioningly from the doorway, so I shook it off and continued my step-by-step evaluation of the room. The wall to the right of the door was the plain, light blue again, with two rich cherry oak doors. I started toward them, but decided against it for now. There was enough in the room to occupy me for the moment.

There wasn't much furniture in the room. The bed I sat on was of the same cherry wood as the doors and the plain trim, the sheets and covers the midnight blue of the drapes. A small, half-circle table was pushed against the wall as a nightstand, with a slender black lamp in the center. A blue rug was spread across the floor, and a large, poofy black chair was by itself in the corner.

My gaze traveled upwards, and I gasped in amazement and disbelief, practically leaping off of the bed.

On the last wall stood a row of five bookshelves. Four of them were completely filled. One was left empty, except for the few books I had brought with me. I skimmed the titles, fingered the spines. My hand paused mid-stroke on the binding of a particularly old one. The title was badly faded, so I pulled it out, placing my other hand in its place as a stopper.

That's when I told myself it wasn't possible. None of this could be anything but a dream. With any luck, I could still wake up in my own room with my mother yet breathing beside me rather than already dead.

What brought on this abrupt reality check? The book in my hands. In golden script:

Romeo and Juliet – William Shakespeare

I'd read this book many times previously, but the content of the book wasn't the issue.

The copy was at least three hundred years old.

And then his cool breath was against my ear. "Carlisle told me you like the classics." I stared at him, but his dark eyes were carefully focused away from me, on the rows of books. "So, I went through our collection and found ones I thought you'd like." His eyes flickered to mine, then away. My gaze trailed across the books: Jane Eyre, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Oliver Twist, King Leer. I almost died. "Of course, not all teenagers today appreciate the original works of Shakespeare, but…" He trailed off, finally noticing my expression, which, I'm sure, was terrifying.

"Bella?" he asked, a little annoyed, maybe sad – she doesn't like them, and after hauling all those books, he was probably thinking. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I should have asked before putting all these old things in your room, but…" He continued on, always apologetic, looking to erase whatever harm he'd done. He regretted my apparent distress.

I wasn't distressed; I was euphoric. I finally gained the willpower to speak, to pause in my session of reverently staring at the centuries-old book, and said softly, my voice weak with strain, "Thank you."

Edward stopped apologizing. "You're welcome?" he replied hesitantly. "What are you thanking me for, exactly?" He looked confused and lost; I giggled. It was altogether a cute expression, especially on him. Somehow, I thought almost anything would be cute on him. I shook myself out of it; I refused to be distracted. I gestured at the books.

"All of this," I said, and twirled around for effect. My not-so-graceful genes chose that not-so-opportune moment to kick in, and I grasped at something – anything – to keep me up.

"Whoa, there," he chuckled, his voice playful, but tense as well. He had caught me swiftly, faster than I would have thought possible. One arm curved around my back, above my waist, and the other held me steady at the shoulder. "You really are clumsy, aren't you?"

I glared at him, affronted. He let me go, and I pulled back. I stuck my tongue out at him as I straightened out my shirt. My eyes grew wide, mortified at my sudden burst of familiarity. I cowered back into my invisible shell, waiting for the rebuff, the rejection.

Instead, there was laughter. Not the controlled, polite laughter, but a boisterous laughter. Clearly my actions were taken with great hilarity. He turned away, as if to shield himself from my face in order to regain composure.

If I were being honest with myself, I would know what I should have felt: hurt, anger. But neither of these emotions crossed my mind as I watched him laugh. The sound was so loud, happy, childlike –and strangely, it didn't sound as if he was normally one to laugh like this. He seemed so much more solemn, and I couldn't deny him this moment of breaking out of that solitude. And as I listened to his laughter, I became happy, too. It was contagious. Watching him, hearing him, seeing him laugh – one hand on the bookcase, the other on his stomach, doubled over – it was enough to make me join in as well.

So, I did. "I'm sorry," I gasped through my laughter. "It wasn't funny to me until you started laughing." I struggled for breath. "But you just-" gasp "looked so funny!"

His laughter cut off abruptly. Curious, wary, I looked up, worried at this sudden change in his attitude. I grew more worried when I saw the playful smirk spread wide across his face.

"Looked funny?" he growled. His voice was low and mocking, and I couldn't help but notice the way his throat vibrated, the way the muscles of his neck grew taught as he positioned himself menacingly in front of me. He crouched low. "I'll give you funny."

"No-" I started, but he had already pounced at me.

Our combined weight crashed onto the bed several feet behind me. I prayed that it was sturdy. Shockingly, the impact didn't hurt – Edward pulled me to his chest, bracing his arms around me.

I was acutely aware of the position we were in: my back arching over the edge of the bed, his arm under me, supporting my weight, crushing my torso to his chest. His free hand on the back of my head, pressing my face to the crook of his neck. Strands of his shining bronze hair obscured my vision. My legs were wide apart, like a china doll sitting against a wall. One of his legs had come up around my thigh and back down to hook around my ankle, as if to stop short any possible impact with the floor.

To put it lightly, if anyone were to walk into the room at that moment, we'd have a lot of explaining to do. We stayed like that for a moment. My cheeks burned.

And then he released me. In one fluid movement, he unwrapped his limbs from my body and was several feet away. I sank the rest of the way to the floor. Although I glared at him (my best death-glare, too, and I don't take death glares lightly – he should know). The laughter in his eyes was unmistakable.

I started. They weren't golden anymore, didn't resemble any of the other Cullens' eyes. Then again, they didn't have to, I reasoned, because they weren't related. They were adopted, so they shouldn't resemble each other.

Even then I knew it, knew that I was only trying to deny fact and grapple with the truth, twist it to the truth I wanted to be reality.

Reality was impossible to ignore. His eyes, once light honey, were a deep coal black. Different, somehow. Different from that first day, when I thought I was going to drown in those pools of darkness. No, the blackness now was of heated coals, smoldering with the last remaining embers of a fire.

I could feel his eyes assessing my new position on the floor. "Now you look funny," he snickered, his eyes focused on mine. I broke the contact and lifted myself up with my elbows on the bed behind me.

"And what," I hissed through gritted teeth, "was that for?" I set my jaw, raised my chin, and angled my body away from him. I glared out the window, then hesitated, sure that the force of my glare would set the glass shattering.

He came to stand beside me; the light from outside caused his face to glow like an angel's. His features were made all the more angular, prominent. And I couldn't help but notice that he was absurdly, unrealistically beautiful. "I did it for two reasons: One because I thought you would look funny, and I was right. Two, because I wanted you to lighten up a bit around me. Thus far, the only emotions I've seen cross your face when you look at me are fear and apprehension." Up till this point, he had kept his voice carefully even. However, when he spoke of my feelings, his tone took on a bitterness that I couldn't quite place. Resentment towards me, perhaps? Annoyance at my fear?

"And curiosity," I added, as determined to 'lighten his mood' as he was mine. He turned to me then, his expression lacking all emotions. It unnerved me that someone should be able to rid themselves of all human likeness so quickly, as if…

As if he weren't human in the first place.

Ridiculous, I chided myself. The Cullens have been nothing but kind to you, and you're already accusing them of somehow being not human? How ungrateful can you get?

"Curiosity…" he repeated. "So that's what that was." He looked away again, back out into the rain. "All the same," he continued, "Now, at least, you aren't afraid of me. Or," he backtracked, "not as." He grinned, and the effect was astonishing. His teeth were a dazzling white, and I couldn't help but stare. "Now, at least, you're angry with me." The grin faded, and he sighed – a sigh I don't think I was meant to hear, for he did not glance my way.

Anger? I was confused. Angry at what? I wasn't hurt when he tackled me, and no damage was done to the bed, so I didn't see why I was supposed to be angry.

I reached out a tentative hand and placed it lightly on his arm. An electric shock ran through me, but I forced myself not to move; my fingers pressed harder on his ghostly pale skin. I knew he must be looking at me with his large, confused eyes, or perhaps glaring, but I also knew it would be pointless to attempt to talk to him with his skin faintly glowing and his eyes wide in earnest. I wouldn't be able to speak. I chose the alternative – I stared at his shoes. Plain black sneakers, though an expensive pair, I'm sure. I was relieved; his shoes were probably the only part of him I could stare at without melting.

"So that's what you think of me," I whispered, but even I could tell there was a sharp hint of hostility inflicted. My voice rose in heat and volume, and I knew that if I didn't calm myself down soon, I would begin to yell. "I'm angry? That's what you think? That I'm so ungrateful that I would be angry at your kindness? That I'm such an unemotional freak that I would be angry at you for no reason? Do you really think that of me? That is such an insult, do you have any – idea-" Tears, gathered in my eyes during my rant, pored over. "Any idea at all, how I-" My voice broke. "How this makes me feel? I-" I struggled for words, and couldn't find them. "It hurts so much…too much…"

That's when I felt something, something that felt absurdly right.

His arms, around me. His arms, holding me tightly against his chest. Something he'd done before.

But this time, it was different. This time, he held me of his own accord – not because I tripped, not because he tackled me. He held me because…why? There was no reason. I had yelled at him, given him perfect cause to hate me. So why was he holding me now, why was he comforting me?

I was distracted, suddenly, by his voice. "Bella," he said, and his voice was taught with strain. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry, I…" He paused, and I was shocked. He was hesitating, at a loss for words. I couldn't see his face, but I knew that he was wracking his brains for something to say. "I didn't want to hurt you, Bella, I swear. I just didn't want you to be afraid of me. Truly, honestly, I was desperate to have you trust me. But," and he upturned his face to the ceiling, "it rather backfired, didn't it?"

I didn't say anything. I remained in his arms, because I felt safe there. "Believe me, Bella, when I say I never meant to hurt you. Because right now I promise you, swear to you, that I will not hurt you." I was silent. "Ever." He didn't hate me, then. He was forgiven, was as soon as he said the words that made me angry in the first place. But I couldn't speak, couldn't trust myself to say it aloud. I knew that I would lose control, so I just kept my mouth shut.

He stopped talking.

We stood there, two beings, two entities, silent. Like strangers. And yet, there was this familiarity, this connection between us that seemed stronger than could ever be expected.

His voice broke the silence. "Where do you want these?"

I glanced down at the shopping bags at his feet. "I don't, but," I gestured to the closet, "put them over there. I'll put them away in a bit." I snorted. "It'll take forever, though. Honestly, Alice didn't have to get me so much…or anything."

Edward hesitated as he moved to put the bags down by the closet doors. "Do you want help with that?" I was about to reply with a 'no, thank you,' when he strode over to me and then stopped, rather abruptly, his face less than a foot away from my own. "It will take less time that way."

Suddenly, I couldn't think. His golden eyes bore into mine, smoldering like the last remains of a fire – too close to coal to be called the honey they had been before. I felt weak at the knees, like I was about to fall down. I shivered, a strange convulsion – and not because of the cold. My body wasn't working right, wasn't responding to what my mind told it.

I knew that Edward and his family weren't dangerous. Rather, they could be if they wanted to; I was fairly sure of that. But that was just it – they didn't want to. I couldn't doubt the sincerity in Edward's eyes, his voice. I had to trust him.

I did trust him. And I would if the world depended on it.

"Are you cold?" he murmured, and for a moment I didn't respond. The worried look in his gaze prompted me, so I hastily blurted, "No. Yes. I mean, sure."

He raised a single bronze eyebrow. I blushed. "I mean, no, I'm not cold, and you could help me put this stuff away…only if you want to." I turned away. "But I'm sure you have something better to do." I stared at him, biting my lip, waiting for his reaction.

"Actually," he corrected me, "I don't." He looked away, as if to avoid my gaze. I bit down harder – he was starting to scare me.

He swiveled around abruptly, gracefully, turning to face me with a snarl on his flawless features. "Don't do that!" he hissed. His voice was transformed, almost unrecognizable. It was menacing. Deadly. But I trusted him.

I did not move. After a moment more of him glaring me down, he relaxed his stiff, threatening posture, the muscles of his face smoothing into a more human expression, done with much effort. His eyes narrowed.

"You could have started bleeding,' he accused. I was befuddled. I almost said, "so what?", but the serious expression on his face made back out of my intended response. I bit my lip once again, reprimanding myself.

He took a step away from me, his hands slightly upraised, palms forward. A silent plea. "Please," he said quietly. "You may not understand now, but it would be very bad if you bled around here."

Before I could stop myself, my naturally curious side broke out. "Why? What's wrong here?" He tried to interrupt, but I had something to say, and I was going to say it. "No, let me talk. What's going on?" I lowered my voice. "Er, is it...something medical? A disease?" I winced, waiting for him to blow – medically challenged people are often like that. It was insensitive of me, but I couldn't take it back now. And I couldn't not ask. If I was going to be living with their family, and they were going to accept me 'as their own' like the said they would, then I had a right to know. It was as if I no longer had control of my feelings...a sudden burst of confidence had run through me. Like my emotions weren't my own anymore. Someone else entirely was in control.

He laughed, his musical chuckle ringing like the finest bells, as soothing as the softest velvet in the room.

God, this boy was bipolar – depressed one minute, angry the next, laughing a second later, and then depressed again.

"A disease," he mused, serious once again – thereby proving my point about the bipolarity. "Yes, yes, I suppose you could call it that." He paused. "Although it is a bit of a stretch, and a misclassification." I could see the pain in his eyes once again, the seclusion, the desolation. I could see the torture, the agony, the self-hatred. His face was like an open book.

And I didn't understand it.

It was unusual for me – when I read a book, and didn't understand a specific section, I would re-read it, again and again. And I would not stop re-reading until I understood the passage completely and thoroughly. I would not settle with a mere interpretation of the reading, one man's idea of what it meant; I wanted the true interpretation, the real facts.

Just as I would not finish trying to understand Edward until I knew. Until I knew everything.

I had a feeling that this was going to take a very long time.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

I sat, criss-cross applesauce, next to a chest of drawers that was nearly full. Edward sat facing me, his back turned to the tall bureau he had been filling with clothes.

Two bags left. Only two. Immediate relief. The relief came too soon.

They were the ones that Alice bought, and I wasn't sure what was in them. I stared at them speculatively for a moment, and then made up my mind.

"Here," I said, shoving a bag at Edward. "We'll split." I grabbed the other.

"Deal." He grinned briefly, and then bent to his task. I reached to open the bag that had fallen under my care, and then stopped. And stared.

I felt my jaw drop. Within moments, I was seething. I half expected my body to start trembling with anger. "Alice!" I groaned. My shock didn't last long. I rolled my eyes and chuckled, shaking my head. Inside the bag was a pair of shoes. Very expensive shoes. With – and this was a generously down-sized guess – four inch stiletto heels, as well as a thin strap around the ankle. One very, very thin strap. I sighed dramatically, smacking my forehead with my hand.

"Bella?" Edward's voice brought me out of my stupor. "Erm...what am I supposed to do with...what is this, anyway?"

I turned. My shoe problems were forgotten as I stared at the small piece of material that dangled from Edward's pale pinky finger.

I could feel my face heat up, my cheeks redden, my ears burn. For the object that Edward held in his hand was a tiny, bright blue lace and silk underwear set.

Edward seemed to realize this at the same time I did. He dropped the material as if it had stung him, and it fell soundlessly onto the carpet. His fingers twitched, raised in the air as if the small bit of lace was still in his hand. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His jaw remained open, however; staring at the underwear, the wall, the window – anywhere but at me.

"God, Alice..." I croaked out, staring at the fabric. I tried to be brave, tried to exert enough willpower inside of me to stay strong, courageous, and to step outside of my comfort zone. Way outside. Talking about underwear with guys – especially attractive guys who are currently doing me huge favors such as giving me a place to live– is not something that I do on a regular basis. The topic never even came up with my dad. Thank goodness; I don't think that I could live through an encounter like that.

There was a silence as I reached over to take the forbidden garment. "Well," I said, trying to make my voice light, "I suppose this can just go in the garbage." I sniffed haughtily. "I make no use of such things." He stared at me. His lip twitched up, ever-so-slightly. I smiled, which took even me by surprise. My old self would have been crying, ashamed, terrified. I couldn't blame that part of me – I had been teased for years, and so I had grown fragile. When someone looked at me in the wrong way, I was sad. Embarrassed. And so, so frightened. Here, I held the lacy nothing in between my fingers, fighting the urge to laugh. Watching his face as he registered my response.

I held the lace delicately between my thumb and forefinger and grimaced. "Is this thing even sanitary?"

He grinned. The way his lips stretched into that crooked smile, flashing his shining white teeth as if he were on a teeth whitener commercial, but so much more non-computerized, made me want to go scrub my own teeth in earnest.

He smiled, too, and I knew that we could get better. That he could cure me of my past weaknesses, and I his. But first – and here was my problem – I had to understand a little of what was wrong with him. For now, though, I would settle with being his friend, growing his trusting in me, and having a darn good time while doing so.

As we laughed and smiled together, his deep laugh mingling with my lighter one, I realized that we were both unused to this – this laughing thing. Having fun. Smiling.

But all I could think was, "What a weird way to start a friendship."

But a good way. Yes.

A good friendship.


	5. Finding Out

Chapter 5  
Finding Out

"Bella, Alice and Jasper will stay here with you. You won't be alone. I promise."

Promise. I promise. What was it? What with all the broken promises, with all the hurt and betrayal I've experienced, I shouldn't be able to trust. But with Edward, I can't not trust him.

"No, Edward," I assured him, "don't make them stay behind. Just because I'm not going doesn't mean you should cut your family in half. It's a camping trip – something I don't really mind missing." We were in my bedroom, I lying on my bed, he standing at the foot, gazing at me with growingly intense concern.

"We're not going to leave you alone; it's not up for debate." His jaw was set firmly. There was no way to move him on this matter. Unless...

"It isn't up for debate; you're right. Because Alice and Jasper are going." I smiled, basking in satisfaction. "Edward, I'll be okay. You don't have to be Shakespeare's self-sacrificing gentleman."

His mood turned somber. I could almost hear the birds' chirping outside grow sad. "I'm not sure that I'm any better than Tybalt. I'm not the gallant knight, Bella." He looked at me pleadingly. "Please understand."

Before I could even begin to think of the words I was saying, I said – shyly, thank goodness – "then be my Romeo. He was no knight in shining armor, but he was no Tybalt." I flushed, looking down, hoping he wouldn't notice the sudden redness of my cheeks.

His face was stony. "You don't – can't – understand." Then he grinned. "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" He took my hand, and an electric shock shuttered up my arm. "It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." It took me a moment before I could respond; his voice was so gentle, caressing, loving. I had to remind myself that he was acting as Romeo.

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Sliding my hand from his, I placed both hands softly on the sides of his face with a burst of confidence. "Deny thy father, and refuse thy name! Or, if thou canst not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."

With a dramatic expression of anguished love painted on his face, he took my face in his larger hands as well. We held each others gazes a moment longer, and then laughed. We truly were absurd.

"Edward!" Esme's sweet, motherly voice floated up the stairs. "Emmett is getting impatient!" Of course; the big brother always loves camping.

Edward's hands fell from my face to his lap. "We'll be back." He leaned forward, down to where I lay on my bed. He rested his hand on my forehead – so odd, so different. Yet I couldn't question him or his family. It wouldn't be right; I wouldn't feel right.

I knew they were different, and I didn't care. Now they were my family.

"Soon," I commanded, but even I could hear the weak, helpless lilt in my voice.

He smiled. "Yes. Soon."

Ж

I started awake; no lights were on in the large house. The room was illuminated by an iridescent redness, falling over the furniture of the room like a blood-red shadow. I searched for the source of the light – it came from the small alarm clock on the bedside table.

Then I heard something outside. A low, ominous growling. It was unusual – not that of a wild animal, but of something more frightening, more human. I sat up straight, looking out the window.

Nothing was out there; nothing but darkness. But as my eyes grew quickly accustomed to this nothingness, the light from the clock reflected down from the glass and onto the shadowy lawn below.

Then, red. Glowing, just like the clock. But not familiar – condensed into orbs. Eyes.

Then the thing slipped silently around the side of the mansion.

I thought wildly, frantically. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do to escape this monster at whose meeting my life would be ended.

Glass, crashing, shattering. Quick footsteps, lethal snarling. Slamming – the door had opened. I couldn't see – couldn't breathe! – but I knew it was there. They. The monsters. In perfect unison, they stepped into the light of the clock, spreading out. No chance of escape. They were as beautiful as three angels. Satan's angels.

I couldn't even scream.

In the seconds I had before my inevitable death, I was able to observe these evil creatures in some detail.

Their clothing, once clean, was torn and dirty, leaves and mud caked on the sparse material.

The third one, the one on the right, closest to the door – now dangling from its top hinge, swinging back and forth erratically like the body of a not-yet-dead hanged man, was male. Not a man; you couldn't call this thing, with its dark red eyes, formidable muscles, olive-toned skin, and tense stance a man. It was a thing, a beast, a creature, a monster. It – he – stared intently at me, his eyes glistening with anticipation. Of what? Killing me? Ripping me to shreds? Well, that shouldn't be too difficult; I am a weak little human. I was sure that they were not human. No one could end up like this. But certainly not mythical – at least, not anymore. His tall, muscular body was inclined towards me.

The second thing was a woman – a loose interpretation, but I preferred to think about her that way. It made me more comfortable with my own impending death. Her eyes, too, were a deep burgundy, quite a contrast when compared to her bright red hair that curled down her shoulders in tiny, messy ringlets. I shivered momentarily at the red, dried liquid at the corners of her mouth. I wouldn't let myself think, wouldn't let myself realize what this must mean. Her poise was catlike – ready to pounce.

Then, the one closest to me. He was neither tall nor short, more beautiful than a human but not outstanding when compared to his two companions. His hair was dark – maybe brown, black or blonde; the dirt disguised it well. His muscular body was not tensed as the others' were, but rather visibly calm and relaxed. And yet, I had a feeling that he was more ready to attack and kill me than either of the others combined. He took a long, slow step closer, and I could see his muscles beneath the old-fashioned black jeans he wore. I cowered into the sheets that surrounded me, trying to sink into oblivion rather than face these creatures. He leaned in towards me; his breath smelled of blood – salt and rust, mixed with death.

His face was within three inches of mine when he placed his pale white hand on my cheek. My eyes widened, my heart stopped. My mind made the realization, and I the connection. His eyes were coal black. His skin was pale as the moon, exuding a weak, red-tinged glow. His hand was cold as stone.

Just like Edward. Whatever this thing was, Edward was, too. His family was like these creatures, these monsters. A horrible, deadened feeling filled me.

"Hello, my sweet." His voice was deep, inconsequential, and yet so utterly unforgettable. It was the kind of voice you wouldn't think twice about believing, about following to the ends of the earth and back. But, I thought grimly, if you followed him, you wouldn't ever come back. I was astonished that he hadn't killed me yet.

"What do you want?" I ground out of my chattering teeth. "Who are you?" I did not stutter. I did not flinch at his voice. I was immovable, still as stone. I was frozen in place.

He chuckled. "I'm James. This is Victoria, and Laurent." He gestured to each of his companions respectively. "Victoria's my mate, Laurent a friend. They're part of my coven." Coven? Where had I heard that word before? "We were just recently feeding in Seattle, so you don't have to worry. We won't drink you until we're thoroughly desperate."

"Vampires."

No. No, it couldn't be. They couldn't be...but they were. All the evidence points to that.

"Yes, vampires. Hadn't this coven told you?" He looked surprised. So was I; I hadn't noticed that I had spoken aloud. I cringed inwardly – I had made my first mistake. I looked back at James. He was smirking at me. "So they're keeping you as a pet without telling you what they are?" He threw his head back and laughed. Somehow, however heartily entertaining he found this, his laugh didn't seem entertained at all. Only frightening. Very, very frightening.

"No," I whispered. "They hadn't told me." My mind was racing. They were vampires. Monsters. Creatures of the night, those who killed for pleasure. Worse than murderers – violent. They drank blood. They killed innocent humans. They were planning to kill me. Or were they? Maybe they were, as James had indicated, keeping me as a pet. Right now, what were they doing? Not camping. They were in Seattle, or another place. Portland. Hunting humans. Not camping. Killing, drinking, murdering. Laughing together about the deaths. Congratulating each other on a good catch. That's what these vampires would do – Lauren, James, Victoria. They would take pleasure in their cruelty.

Even as I thought this, my mind would not come to terms with it. Or perhaps it was my heart that refused. No, no, not the Cullens. Not Edward. Not my Alice, my Edward. My family. Family. My eyes narrowed. They were my family. What would I choose? It was an easy decision – one ruled by my heart and soul.

It did not matter that they were monsters, that my Edward, my dearest friends Alice and Edward, had killed. They had good hearts. I had experienced that, and I loved them. Looking at these creatures in front of me, I knew that the Cullens were good. Somehow, even though they drank the blood of humans, they were good. I couldn't see it any other way. They were my family.

"But I'm afraid that I don't know your name." He looked genuinely disheartened as he spoke this fact out loud.

I cleared my throat. "Isabella. Call me Bella." I chastised myself mentally – only friends should call me Bella! – but it was an automatic response. He looked at me thoughtfully, considering. Then his face broke into a broad smile – causing his eyes to sparkle with malicious intent.

"Bella." He laughed. "Bella! Oh, beautiful Bella!" Laurent and Victoria sauntered up so that they were standing directly behind him, compressing my fears. "How do you feel about becoming our pet, love? Hmm?"

I quaked in terror, because I noticed the strange glint in his eyes. There was something more to this plan, something that I didn't want to know. Something I needed to know, and desperately.

Victoria cackled, her flaming hair swinging back over her shoulder as she laughed in her delight. "Oh, she's a fine one, James! Just perfect. I simply can't wait until her coven knows!" For the first time, James took his gaze from mine, staring at her with what I could only define as being love. It sickened me that these creatures could be so cruel, so heartless, and yet have the ability to love. The Cullens weren't cruel or heartless, and yet they knew love. Rosalie and Emmett, Jasper and Alice, Esme and Carlisle, Edward…and they all loved each other. They included me.

Laurent leaned back, studying me, speculating. "Yes. She could be a good pet."

Victoria scoffed. "Pet? Is that what you think she is for?" She turned to me, her crimson lips curving into a seductive smile. She pushed past James, coming forward to sit on the edge of the bed. Leaning towards me, I noticed that the shirt she wore was thin, black, and revealed the curve of her off-white breast. Her exquisite, blood red eyes bore into mine as she murmured consolingly, "Yes, my pet, we'll take good care of you. We'll pet you and feed you and play with you." – words that did not console me at all.

Her eyes hardened. "But for now, to be sure you don't make a fuss and wake up the neighbors, it's nighty-night. Lights out." In the darkness, I saw her fingers come forward and pinch my neck – a vein. I couldn't breathe. I only vaguely thought, but there are no neighbors. Three miles of nothing in every direction…until I could think no more.

The last thing I heard was Victoria's high, silky laugh.


	6. Saved Too Late

Chapter 6  
Saved Too Late

When I awoke, I was neither confused nor disoriented. Instead, I was graced with something much worse. Comprehension. Knowledge. I understood all too well what had happened to me, understood that my situation was as dangerous as it was inescapable.

With this knowledge came fear. Fear of the obvious: pain, death, torture. Fear of the unknown future. But also things that a rational person wouldn't be thinking about: guilt, the Cullens, Alice, Edward. Perhaps a rational person would think only of themselves, but I sat in place, thinking only about those I left behind. Those people who cared for me.

And I was angry at myself. Terribly angry. I couldn't get it out of my mind – that solitary moment when I had thought of the Cullens as bad. As monsters.

Out of nowhere, a sound. My head whipped around, long hair whip-lashing my face. A figure stood in the doorway, small sections of light entering the room around his tall frame.

It was Laurent. He stayed where he was, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Hello, Isabella."

"Bella," I corrected.

He smiled obligingly. "Bella, then. Of course." He took a breath, as though searching for words he could not say. "You will find that James and Victoria both wish for your demise; Victoria quickly James slowly. I myself am merely curious: what does the coven see in you? Why do they keep you, rather than feeding?" He shook his head. "It simply doesn't make sense to me."

I glared at him. "Stay confused, then. I don't know why, either. I didn't even know they were...that they..." I groaned in frustration.

"That they were vampires," he finished sympathetically. His voice was smooth, and, like Edward's, exuded a perfectly believable amount of coercion. I was sure that Edward used this power unintentionally, but with Laurent, I believed the opposite.

"Vampires are not myths. They are not fairy tales." A sickly twisted grin grew on his face. "They are horror stories. They are nightmares. James is a nightmare. It is unfortunate that you came across him, of all of our kind. But, no matter. You can't get away now.

"You'll never get away. Not from James. James is a tracker." I didn't understand what he meant, but I knew it wasn't good. Noting my ignorance, he explained. "Somehow, his senses are much more acute than ours. He can catch someone's scent and follow it across the world. He's stronger than any vampire I have ever seen. What makes him so lethal is that he is unable to be deterred once he has his eyes on something." He pushed himself off of the doorway blindingly fast, glancing around, looking. "I'd best be going. He wouldn't be pleased to see me here, talking to you." I didn't have to guess twice to know who he was referring to. "Good-bye, little human." His red eyes stared at me unblinkingly. "And good luck. You hardly need me to tell you that you will need it."

He left. The door closed behind him.

Door. Room. I was in a room – of course I was. My mind hadn't previously let me take in my surroundings, but I distracted myself from the thought of my imminent death by recognizing it now.

The walls were a faded navy blue; I felt engulfed by darkness. A small light was plugged in the corner, but the light emitted was barely enough to see with. There was a bad – I was sitting on it. It was a light mahogany wood. A night table was next to it, and a bean bag chair in the corner. Lined up against the wall was a collection of Hot Wheels toys.

This used to be a young boy's room. What had happened to him? Had these creatures killed him? Or had he died of something more normal, like cancer? Or had he simply grown up and left this place behind him? I wished I could. I gazed intently at the window, contemplating the effects of jumping through it. I discarded this idea as I looked three stories down to the concrete patio below.

A cold hand rested on my shoulder; I resisted the urge to scream. I tried to turn around, but found I could not. The hand held me in place. Or maybe it was my fear.

"Isabella," James said, "Or Bella, as you prefer." At the sound of his voice, the feeling came back into my body. I wished that it hadn't. I wished that I could become numb, shut everything out, so I wouldn't notice when he killed me.

But if I stopped feeling, I stopped thinking. I didn't want to stop thinking, because at that moment, my mind wasn't where my body was. Instead, it was with Edward. I thought about him, his topaz eyes, his crooked smile, his cold embrace, his friendly words, and I knew I was ready to die. To live and see a creature with such a cruel nature be so kind caused me to see how little significance I had in the world. I was ready to die.

I turned around. I opened my mouth to speak, but something he held in his hands stopped me. A video camera. A cell phone.

"It's untraceable," he said, guessing where my thoughts had gone. "At least, the number leads to a little town right outside of Sydney, Australia." He set the camera on the nightstand, pointing it in my direction.

He pressed the 'on' button. The blinking red light on the side of the device nauseated me. It looked too much like their eyes. But not James'. James' eyes were the deepest black that I had ever seen. It terrified me. Yet I couldn't scream. I couldn't move. I just stared at him. Waiting. For what? For death. It frightened me, too, how calm I was about my own demise. Maybe because I had always been waiting for it – only it came in a rather unexpected form, at the hands of beings that shouldn't exist.

"Bella," he began, and I noticed that his voice took on an air of hostility that had not been there before. "I'm going to make a little bit of a production. You see, it disappointed me when your coven wasn't there to protect you. It was much too easy. I hope that, once they see this video, they will come to me to avenge your death. I want a good fight. I want to go for the visual effects." His hand motioned to the room surrounding us. "I thought this room looked rather innocent, wouldn't you agree? And I do hope the glass of that window will come into play. Very...visually effective." I closed my eyes – how could God let this happen? If any of the Cullens were hurt...

"But before we begin, if you have no objection, allow me to call them up." He flicked open the cell phone.

"Their number is private," I interjected desperately. "It can't be accessed by-"

He cut me off. "Clearly, it can." His fingers flew overt he keypad, and then he held the small device in front of him, speaker up, lying in the palm of his hand.

From the cell phone came a voice. "James." My eyes filled up at the sound. Angry, harsh, biting. Hopeful. Edward. I bit back my outcry, but a small gasp escaped my lips.

"Edward," James replied pleasantly, a smile toying on the corner of his pale lips. "It's good to hear from you – I was worried that Bella would be dead before I called." The phone almost fell off his hand; the snarling coming from the speakers was enough that it made me cover my ears.

My captor pursed his lips. "We don't have all the time in the world." The snarling died down, then ceased. "Good. Now. Are you coming?" I was confused, but then I realized that the question was directed, not at me, but at Edward.

"NO!" My horrified shriek pierced the phone and reverberated off the walls. James turned to stare at me.

"Why not? Don't you want to be saved?" He smirked. "Or have you no sense of self-preservation at all?" He chuckled at his joke.

However amusing he found it, I couldn't stop my voice from breaking. "He can't...get hurt."

James looked surprised. "I think you'll find he can. I have no problem with him getting hurt. I'm up for the challenge." I wasn't listening to him anymore, just staring at the phone. James followed my gaze.

"Very well." He smiled, handing me the phone. "I'm not cruel. I'll give you a few minutes together." He retreated into the corner. "Proceed."

I took the phone off of speaker, forcing it against my ear desperately. "Edward," I whispered, unable to say any more. "Edward..."

"Bella," he replied, just as hopelessly. We didn't speak at first. I don't think we needed to, or wanted to. In that moment, we were connected, together. We could forget the fact – almost – that I was about to be killed. We could forget because we weren't speaking. But we both knew that we were merely putting off what was already decided. Trying to avoid the inevitable. "Bella, is he in the room?" I could practically feel James' presence behind me.

"Yes."

"Of course. Bella, you know now...what I..." I had never heard him at a loss for words. It might have seemed comical in any other context. But here it was heartbreaking. Horrible. He couldn't finish, but I knew what he was referring to. The small matter of his species. I winced – my own sick humor was awful.

"What you are. Yes." There was a silence. "That doesn't matter."

A sharp intake of breath on the other side. "What?" he hissed out. "It doesn't matter?"

"No. Not what you are – a vampire. It's who you are – Edward. My friend. My family." I knew he would argue; it was in his nature.

"It doesn't matter to you what I am? That I drink blood to live? That I've killed more people than you've met in your lifetime?" He was breathing hard. I wondered how he could think that – that I could ever blame him for anything. Didn't he realize that he was all I had? Didn't he realize what he was? To me? For me?

"No." You are, to me, the most important person in my life."

"Bella." He didn't finish.

"Yes?" Silence. His next words were rushed, but decided.

"I am coming. Don't argue. I'm on my way. I'm almost there." James stiffened behind me.

"But Edward," I protested. No way in the world was he coming here – no way was he going to get himself hurt! Because of me. No. I would not let it happen, could not let my Edward – my life – be harmed. "No, you're not-"

"No, Bella. I am coming. I am not losing you."

I knew I couldn't argue, so I said what I could. "You will not be hurt." Although our words were strong, sure, and commanding, our voices were not. We both knew the impossibility of survival. We both knew. I tried desperately not to.

"Bella..."

"Yes?"

"If things...end...badly, I need you to know something about us." He waited, supposedly for my assent. I gave it. "We aren't...normal-" I bit back a laugh "-for vampires. We are different. Carlisle was different when he started this...family. Coven. He only drank the blood of animals." He waited, but I gave not reaction. "We are like that, too. We don't kill humans. We can live peacefully alongside them. Carlisle wouldn't have brought you into our home unless he was certain you would be safe. Clearly," he added bitterly, "You weren't."

Silence. "Bella?"

For I had not reacted to this new information. I wasn't surprised, I wasn't relieved. I had already accepted him as he was. I would accept him however he was. I wondered what it meant about me that I didn't feel bad for those he had killed. But I couldn't bring myself to care. Because I cared for him. Because I loved him.

"I...I..." Stuttering. How completely cliché.

"I think that's enough time." As James plucked the phone out of my hand, I heard in that lightning-quick moment 'BELLA!' – and then nothing. He had snapped the phone in two. He dropped the pieces onto the floor. They scattered, skittering like mice over the hard wood beneath our feet.

He grinned, black eyes glowing with excitement and malice. "Your turn." He took a step toward me.

From downstairs, Victoria shrieked. "James! They're outside!" His eyes widened, a sadistic smirk found its way to his lips. "Let them come in," he called to his red-haired mate. "It's dinnertime."


	7. Never Let You

Chapter 7  
Never Let You

The seconds seemed to tick by, to grow into hours, but I knew that only enough time had passed to blink. Then I heard a fierce ripping, tearing sound. A strange, keening whimper. James grinned at me. "Whoops, there goes Laurent," he said cheerfully. My stomach felt sick.

A moment later, an even more high-pitched wail reached my ears. I smiled in bitter triumph. "And that," I said, "was Victoria. Your mate." Even before these words slipped from my mouth, the vampire's eyes darkened even more. His eyes narrowed. Air whistled between his teeth as he hissed out unintelligible words. His muscled tensed. He sprang.

Impact.

Pain ripped throughout my torso; his fingernails tore at the skin and flesh of my upper arm. I was warm all over, and wet, as I fell to the ground. I forced open one eye – blood. All blood. All over.

I felt like I was drowning. My eyelid fluttered shut of its own accord, for which I was grateful. I didn't want to see the blood anymore. Like a watery form of Ketchup. I vaguely thought that Heinz needed to make it thicker. I was beyond the realms of conscious thought.

A strange thing, then, that I was still aware of my surroundings. You'd think that I would be dead by now, my heart stopped and my senses deactivated. But I could still hear the vicious snarling across the room. I could somehow hear the broken cries that then echoed through my head, over and over, as if they represented my own pain. I somehow knew it was Edward.

I commanded my body to stay aware, to stay conscious. I could not lose track of what was happening. Not when my family was involved. I felt Edward's hands take my face. Unfortunately, more consciousness meant more feeling. More feeling meant more pain. But that was a side effect I would take willingly if it meant Edward was holding me.

"Bella," he moaned. "Please, please, please be okay. Oh, God!" I felt his face press into my blood-soaked hair. I wanted to comfort him – he seemed to be in more pain than I was – but I couldn't move, couldn't speak. "Carlisle?" he pleaded. "Look at her! Tell me she'll be okay." Then, screaming, "Let her be okay!"

Carlisle was silent at first, as though he was weighing the situation, figuring out to let Edward know the truth as easily as possible. I knew it – I wouldn't survive. No one could survive this pain, this much blood loss. Carlisle was a doctor – he would know that, too. Honestly, Edward should know that; I realized with a jolt that he did know, and that he just didn't want to believe it. "Edward...you know my thoughts. I cannot lie to you. I wish it were different." This produced another tortured outcry from Edward and a string of profanities from Emmett, who was apparently also in the room.

I began to lose my grip on reality once more, started sinking into that welcome oblivion. Edward, I thought. I love you.

"No," Edward murmured, and his voice was determined. "I won't lose you. Not if I can help it."

Alice's usually peppy voice sang out with hope: "Yes! Yes, Edward! Change her!" Emmett's enthusiastic agreement: "C'mon, Edward! Quick – don't let my li'l sis die! If you let her die, I'll have to go reincarnate James so I can kill him again. Except more painfully." Esme's worry: "Please, Edward. Do so." Rosalie's surprisingly caring snap: "Hurry up, Edward. You'll be too late." Carlisle's steady response: "Do it now, Edward. She has only so long."

But Edward remained immobile, undecided. "What if she doesn't want this – this life? This existence? I wouldn't blame her. She shouldn't want to be a monster. She has no reason to want to become like us." He would have gone on, I think, if I hadn't painstakingly parted my chapped lips.

"E-edward," I croaked, or tried to. I could hear the sudden sucking in of each of their breaths. "I-I. Love...you." This sapped out my strength. It was as if this was what I needed to do before I died – I let myself shut down.

"Oh, Bella," Edward breathed out. "I love you." His hands stroked my hair reassuringly, rhythmically – but I could feel them shaking.

But I wasn't going to die before I had the chance to say something else. "Change me," I demanded. Then I fell unconscious.

Out of sheer curiosity, have you ever been so overwhelmed by pain that now you can't even begin to describe how much pain you were in? That's my situation. Because of everything I might have guessed the change into a vampire to be, it was not that painful. I was expecting to feel pain – just not to experience hell. Hell is not the most pleasant place to be.

Of course, I wasn't actually in hell – if I was, I would still be there, and somehow I managed to escape. It lasted a little less than three days. It was awful. Excruciating. The reason it was bearable – I'll admit, the only reason – was that Edward was there, whispering my name. Whispering my name as I screamed his. It was a rather morbid compromise, to be honest.

He sat by my bedside as I twisted and turned and thrashed around in the covers, holding my hand and stroking my hair, touching my forehead that was coated with sweat. I felt bad, forcing him to see me like this, so animalistic. It was rather embarrassing, really, that I couldn't do anything to stop it. It just hurt so much.

It had started with my neck; the two points were Edward's teeth had sunk into my flesh and into my veins were definitely the foci of my pain. It was the strangest sensation I had ever experienced – fire ripping through my body until my entire torso, then limbs, then head, were completely engulfed in flame. The part that terrified me the most was when Edward said that this seemingly endless flame was all in my head. I didn't like to think that my mind was being manipulated into thinking I was burning – that it was really only the feeling and not the actual fire. I suppose it should have comforted me, but I was not to be reassured. Not in the state I was in.

Soon enough I had lost all sense of time and direction and existence. The only thing I knew was Edward. I saw his face whether my eyes were open or closed – whether he was smiling, laughing, or sobbing, he was there. He was with me.

That's how I got through.

He explained to me what was happening, the process of the change into a vampire. The venom coursing through my veins – the fire – the drastic renovations to my weak human body, the slow deadening of my organs. He warned me that my initial instinct once 'waking up', or becoming a vampire in full, would be to kill. To hunt. To drink the blood of humans. He assured me that he would not let this happen, that he and the rest of his family were beyond strong enough to care for me, to watch my every move. Somehow, I was comforted. I felt so safe with him.

Even in the very pits of hell did I feel safe with my love. My angel. But in this state, everything was intensified. I could hear everything going on in the house – they had taken me back to their mansion in Forks. They were all using very distractions from my sporadic screams – Esme was in the kitchen, baking cakes, pies and cookies that their family would never consume; Carlisle was pacing in his study when he wasn't checking on me; Emmett and Rosalie were having an X-box battle downstairs; Alice was re-organizing her closet; Jasper was with Alice, playing her love songs on his guitar – I half suspected it was to try and drown out the shockingly loud noise coming from my vocal chords. Edward, of course, was with me.

It should feel strange, having Edward by my side, vowing his eternal love, devotion, and support. All I was used to from him was friendship – at least, that's what my brain told me. But my heart, apparently, was a different matter entirely. Instead of unusual, awkward, and out of the ordinary, being with Edward seemed natural. It fit into place perfectly – like some cheesy, sappy form of destiny.

Edward told me everything he knew about vampirism – which was considerable given his birth in 1901 and change in 1918. It was as if he thought anything he said could alter my opinion about the change. But I was determined. The only thing that was important to me was that I loved him.

Weeks ago, directly after my mother's death, I had thought there was no hope for me. Thought that nothing in the world could ever bring me out of my despair, ever lead me to hope again.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

Because as I lay on the mussed bed sheets, sweating and screaming, feeling Edward's cooling hand on my forehead, hearing my heartbeat gradually slow down, it wasn't the pain that mattered.

It was my family – the Cullens. It was Alice, the little black-haired shopaholic psychic who also had the equally supernatural ability to cheer me up. It was Jasper, the emotion-controlling vampire who was as unsure about himself as he was in love with Alice. It was Rosalie, who, though a little involved in herself, was a truly caring sister to have. It was Emmett, the older, weirder brother that I never had, who was as intimidating as a teddy bear. It was Carlisle and Esme, the two most compassionate beings I had ever laid eyes on. It was Edward, who was the one person I could give my heart to with no doubt in my mind.

In life, you'll go through many challenges – family members passing away, people trying to kill you, confusing relationships, and blood-sucking vampires. But you'll also discover something else, and when you do, you'll be better for it.

All that matters is love.

Epilogue:

_I still remember the day that I awoke as a vampire, never to sleep again. I had turned to Edward immediately, stared at him. He had stared back, and many life-time's worth of pain and sadness showed in his beautiful topaz eyes. I had thrown myself at him, desperate to touch him, confirm his existence, confirm my own._

We had kissed. For the first time, we had come together without the barrier of his 'darker side' to hurt me. We didn't get very far – which was good, because neither of us were thinking very rationally at that point in time. We pulled apart. I had barely made it though greeting all of the Cullens with enthusiasm when there was a terrible growling inside of me. Coming from me, emitting from my lips.

I was thirsty. Immediately, I slipped from Edward's arms and raced down the stairs in an effort to escape the confines of this house. I needed something to satiate my thirst. My hunger. When I had felt arms throwing themselves around me, a body tackling me to the ground, I tried to claw them off – no one gets in between me and my dinner! – but I couldn't. I was stronger than them by far, but as I turned to face them, there was something about the face of my captor that held my gaze. That forced me to give in.

His eyes. They were so familiar. So deep, so golden. So full of sadness. I couldn't do anything to sadden these eyes any more. The monster quieted – I had forced it down. I don't know where I got my inspiration – at least, I hadn't known it then. I hadn't even known it was Edward who had held me.__

In this way, I conquered the animal that forever would try to hold me captive. It wasn't done immediately, but rather, through one thing alone: the love of my husband, Edward. Yes, we got married – Alice had great fun planning the wedding, as did Rosalie and Esme. They even involved me, and amazingly enough, I enjoyed it a little bit as well. After only two years of fighting my instinct, I was human enough to be in public – not huge crowds, and much to Alice's disappointment, not shopping malls. But I could go out sometimes, always with my Edward.__

By the time of our wedding, three and a half years after my change, I had gained enough control to go to a church and have people there. Of course, we didn't actually know them, but this Lutheran congregation was very kind. They applauded and smiled, and some even took pictures. I felt beautiful, I felt loved. I felt like I could do anything.

I felt whole.

That's how I feel now, too, as I lie in Edward's arms amidst the beauty of his meadow. He showed me this soon after my change, finding a place where we wouldn't run into humans, but was not inside the walls of the Cullen household.__

We have just been talking of my arm-wrestling match with Emmett in one of my more rational moments in the early days of my new life. My brother's shocked face as I smashed his fist to the rock that served as our larger, less breakable table was priceless. Rosalie, however, would argue differently – she had gotten a video of it and Jasper paid her a few thousand dollars for it. Emmett was infuriated, but not with me. Not when I pouted and made my lower lip tremble. He had immediately taken me in his arms and told me that it wasn't my fault that I was freakishly strong, and that in a few years' time, he would challenge me again. And he would win.

We'll see about that.__

Now, as Edward leans toward me, he has a hungry look in his eyes. Not the look I had that first day. No; a different type of thirst entirely.__

I oblige him; our lips meet. As do our hearts.

Entwined together forever in an endless embrace, we vow that we will remain with each other always, throughout our lives. If we didn't, it would hardly be living.__

We kiss again, and this time, we keep kissing for minutes on end. Finally when we break apart, Edward merely moves his lips to my ear, just hovering over my skin.__

"I'll never let you go," he promises me, his voice deep, a thick velvet. "I'll never let you go."__

He doesn't.


End file.
